


to break the best

by orphan_account



Category: Free!
Genre: Eventual Smut, M/M, Stripper AU, bear with me please, i'm actually going to try and make this something meaningful oh god, it took me forever to come up with a title so i still don't think this title is good enough but, it will happen and when it does the rating will change eheh, it'll have to do, it's actually not all smut lol, makoharu - Freeform, the other couples are just a cameo appearance i guess, though not really it's not gonna be eventual but, um?? idk what to tag this as tbh, well mostly makoharu, yes i know i finally started it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-22
Updated: 2014-12-22
Packaged: 2018-03-02 10:40:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2809400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Haru has given up the Olympics and competing competitively, because he has lost the drive. His life is empty and he is lonely, and despite their many attempts, none of his friends can spark any interest from him in anything. He does what he does because he has to, and because it's the only way he'll survive. The day that Tachibana Makoto shows up at his door (dressed as a repairman, but without his toolbox!), Haru begins to relearn the value of loving something with all this heart. This time around, he won't be so alone if he falls again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	to break the best

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written anything in AGES! At least not on this account. I haven't written MakoHaru in ages, so maybe the beginning of this fanfic will feel a little bit weird. Well -- you know the drill. Feedback is very much appreciated! Beta'd by tumblr user corsicanchevalier, the sweetheart!

Outside his window, the sun was just setting behind the mountains. The sky was orange and pink, tinged with a warmth in the middle of January. From where he stood in the kitchen, Nanase Haruka could see the television perfectly. It was certainly large, but he couldn’t remember how many inches it was. It had been a few years since he bought it, actually, to find a way to fill the emptiness in his apartment. The fact that it was located in Tokyo was bound to make the rent quite high, and with luxurious items like a flat-screen, the prices only doubled. Maybe even tripled -- he was too tired to check the bills anymore. Of course, he still paid them anyway.

He had been on the swim team for most of high school, thanks to the return of one of his best friends from Australia. The man had inspired feelings in Haru back then, but lately, it felt as though he was in a rut.

So many of his nights were dull. He would have come through the door after a long day of walking around Tokyo, aimlessly looking for different sights to take in. There was a lot to see, compared to Iwatobi. He always thought of his choices -- whether coming to Tokyo was really worth it, whether swimming in the Olympics was worth it -- as he came through the door. As much as people liked to romanticize living in a city, Haru could find nothing that soothed him. It was loud, it was crowded, and at the end of the day, he came home to a mostly empty apartment, cooked his usual dinner, and had to pretend that everything was fine.

Tonight was no different.

He still loved swimming -- it was just that he did it so often that it started to make him feel restless, rather than calm. Which, the last time Haru had checked the dictionary, was pretty much the definition of “rut.” He had competed in the Olympics, and watching the thrill fill Rin’s eyes made him realize that maybe, this wasn’t for him. Surely enough, his friends, _including_ Rin, had tried talking to him, had tried to tell him that _this_ was the path he was meant to be on. He had stared at them passively, and hadn’t uttered a single word.

He figured that they could think whatever they wanted, but in the end, their thoughts wouldn’t matter.

It had pained him to do so, but ultimately he had to think of his sanity and his heart before considering others’ expectations of him. He spoke with his coach, who with a frown and a regretful gaze, allowed Haru to walk out the door with nothing but his hands in his pockets. That day was the first time in two years that Haru soaked in the bath for over two hours. The steam had gotten to his head and given him a headache, giving him no choice but to get out. Despite his home remedy for dealing with his problems by making them disappear in the steam of the hot water, he still didn’t feel any better.

Even if Haru had gotten away from everyone who had ever supported him in swimming, he couldn’t _completely_ get away from Rin. The guy lived just three doors down, after all. It was Tokyo, after all, where you always knew somebody or their brother, or their friend. In this part of Tokyo, anyway. Sometimes, they ran into each other in the mornings, when Rin had practice and Haru felt like going for a run. Haru knew that Rin felt hurt, that he was disappointed in Haru, but as long as he felt satisfied with his life, who did people think they were to try and butt in?

His nightly routine was so organized that sometimes, he would forget when he actually did something. When Haru heard the water boiling, his attention snapped back to reality -- to his life that he didn’t really want to admit was his. He walked over to the stove, exhaling softly through his nose as he turned off the gas. Removing the pan from the stove, Haru sat down at his dining table to eat. His eyes glazed over as he watched commercials for the Olympics, hosted in Tokyo this year. He thought of Rin and how even his fiery eyes became dull after having been at practice for too long. Maybe, if Haru had leftover money after paying the electric bill and his rent, he would go and watch Rin. They were good enough of friends -- sometimes when Haru knew Rin would come home late from practice, he would go and leave a container of his homemade mackerel and rice on Rin’s doorstep for him.

Eyeing the rice pot, Haru vaguely thought that maybe he should leave some food for Rin tonight.

He leaned his chin into his empty palm as he chewed. His life was quiet, everything _about_ him was quiet. Most people would take one look at him, vaguely recognize his face, and then move on. No one new ever spoke to him -- and he knew it was because they thought he was somehow intimidating. With his sharp angles and cold stare, he couldn’t blame them. Little did they know that he fed the stray kittens downstairs, that he was the one out of seven people that gave his spare change to the homeless (despite how rare it was to find them), and they _certainly_ didn’t know how lonely he actually was. He read books on trains instead of scrolling through text messages on his cell phone, and he ate alone in cafes when his friends were busy. One could make the argument that he _enjoyed_ solitude, and maybe he did, but the fact of the matter was that he knew his heart felt as though there was a chunk of it that still needed to be filled by something. Or someone.

Haru had been on a few dates throughout his lifetime, all set up by Rin or Nagisa. There was never anything wrong with the girls they found for him, and occasionally he even went on second dates with them. They were always attentive to what he had to say, especially since he didn’t even speak all that much. At the end of the day, though, when he returned to his apartment and was faced with his incredibly lonely home, he couldn’t bring himself to feel _that_ way about anyone. He had never been in love, had never even _really_ had a real crush, and maybe that was what made it hard for him to let anyone in.

 _People wouldn’t understand anyway_ , he told himself.

No one really _wanted_ to understand him. He was too different from most people, even with the way he talked. He was polite and accommodating, but no one would ever feel safe from being around him. This was a fact he had learned to accept a while ago, when Nagisa and Rei had gotten together, and when Rin had mysteriously come home late at night with bite marks on his neck and a huge smile on his face.

No one would ever tremble from the lightest of his touches.

Haru pouted and got up, quickly washing his dishes and letting them dry on the rack. He braced himself against the edge of the sink, reminding himself that it was alright to be lonely. A lot of people were, especially in Tokyo. He sauntered over to the sofa, about to plop down when a knock was heard at his front door.

 _Rin_? he thought vaguely, checking the time and seeing that it was too early for Rin to be home.

He huffed out a breath, a little annoyed because he was halfway to sitting down. He placed his palm to his knees and stood up, walking slowly to the door. The knock came again, softer this time, and Haru grunted at the apparent impatience. He turned the knob and slowly opened the door, to find a tall, broad-shouldered man standing before him. Haru’s eyes were on his chest, and he eyed him from bottom to top, noting the uniform he wore. _A repairman_ , he thought. When his eyes settled on the face of the man, Haru’s breath stopped. He had a warm smile and soft green eyes. A hand came to rub the back of his tan neck, and he chuckled.

Haru blinked.

“Uh, can I help you?”

“I was called because I was told you needed a pipe to be fixed.”

Staring at the man, Haru felt himself becoming more confused each second. The man kept the smile on his face, not showing any sign of discomfort. Haru leaned against his door frame, trying to remember if he really had called anyone about a broken pipe. Perhaps it was one in the bathroom, and with a shrug, he moved aside to let the man in.

“Bathroom’s in the back. Think there’s a broken pipe in there.”

“Oh. I --”

“I’m not paying until you’re done fixing it,” Haru said as he closed the door behind him.

The man stood in the middle of his apartment, his face quickly becoming panicked. Haru stared at him, his hand still on the doorknob. He raised his eyebrows when he noticed the man wasn’t carrying a toolbox with him. He narrowed his eyes, scrunching his eyebrows together as the man fidgeted before him. _Why would a repairman come to my apartment without his toolbox_ , he thought. He stared long and hard at the brown-haired man who somehow appeared a little sheepish, and it dawned upon him that he really _hadn’t_ called a repairman.

Just as Haru realized this, the man spoke up.

“Do you mind if I play some music?”

“Speakers are over by the console table,” Haru gestured, unsure of what this man was doing.

A song that Haru had heard before, one from his clubbing days with his friends, came on, and Haru watched with caution as the man closed his eyes for a brief second before opening them again, a sly smile spreading across his rosy (oh so rosy) lips. Haru swallowed, and felt his face begin to burn up when the man came closer to him and pulled his hand, leading him to the sofa. Haru obeyed and sat down, feeling his whole body become hot from watching the man before him bend over. Haru wasn’t sure what to do -- what were you _supposed_ to do in situations like these?

“What’s your name?” Haru squeaked out.

The man turned and gave a mischievous smile.

“You already want to know my name?” he chuckled, “It’s Tachibana Makoto.”

 _Pretty name_ , Haru thought. He felt his cheeks turn even redder when Tachibana Makoto pulled apart his button down shirt, letting it slip to the floor. Haru wondered how the buttons weren’t all over the place, but when he heard the brown-haired man chuckle again, his attention was focused on the toned muscles and skilled fingers removing every last bit of clothing. Haru shifted, knowing where his blood was rushing to.

“Do I call you Makoto?” he whispered when their eyes were level.

“You can call me whatever you want.”

The music, as well as his heartbeat, rang loudly in Haru’s ears as Makoto pulled off his pants, revealing black boxers that clung and hugged his hips so perfectly. Haru’s fingers _itched_ to touch, but just watching how his hips swayed and grinded only made his breaths shallower and pants tighter. Vaguely, somewhere in the back of his mind, Haru understood that _maybe_ , Makoto wasn’t a repairman.

Makoto leaned closer to Haru, the pull of his lips driving Haru up the wall, with how innocent and yet completely _devious_ the simple action was. He swayed his hips from side to side, and slowly -- oh so _very_ slowly -- bent over, his perfect rear teasing Haru’s eyes. His hands brushed against his own thighs, moving upwards sensuously. His mouth was slightly parted, and he allowed a sinfully delicious sigh to leave his lips. Haru was mesmerized by the pulls of Makoto’s muscles, flexing with and unflexing with just the slightest movement. He allowed his eyes to wander up and down, savoring the sight before him, but when he met Makoto’s eyes, he felt his resolve falter, and his heartbeat was roaring in his ears. Makoto smirked and bit his lip just slightly, just enough to tease, just enough to hold Haru’s attention, before he hooked his fingers in his own boxers.

“You’re really excited, but you need to be patient. It’s not the end of the show yet, Matsuoka-san.”

At the mention of the name, Haru’s blood felt ice cold.

“Did you say… Matsuoka-san?”

“Yeah. Aren’t you Matsuoka Rin?” Makoto asked as his hands froze on his boxers.

“Uh, _no_. He’s a friend of mine who lives a few doors down.”

Makoto’s hips stopped moving and his fingers froze in the waistband of his boxers, but his eyes were wide with surprise. He blinked a few times, and Haru could only stare back -- he wasn’t _sure_ what to do. They stared at each other for what felt like _centuries_. Makoto began to stutter, uttering words of apology as he fumbled with the clothes he left on the floor, his fingers not quite being able to grasp the fabrics. That caused him to double back a few times just to pick up his clothes. The music in the background changed to a slower, more sensual number, and Haru couldn’t take his eyes of Makoto. He was shaking his head from left to right, desperately looking for a hiding place. He ran towards the bathroom and Haru didn’t move, his thoughts too jumbled to process what really just happened.

“I’m gonna kill Rin,” Haru muttered under his breath as he smoothed the wrinkles in his pants.

He walked over to the console table and paused the music, taking a deep breath as he stepped closer to the bathroom. He heard rustling inside, and vague panicked pants, and knew Makoto was freaking out. Even _he_ would, if he were in the guy’s shoes. He knocked softly on the door and heard Makoto’s breath hitch in surprise.

“Makoto, it’s okay, you know. Everyone makes mistakes.”

“I was given this address, though!” Makoto squeaked through the door.

Haru raised his eyebrows in surprise. He took a deep breath and knocked on the door softly again.

“Makoto, you can come out of there. I’ll make you some tea.”

“No, this is too embarrassing!”

Out of all the stupid things that Haru knew he did in his life, _this_ \-- inviting a stripper to have a cup of tea with him -- was probably ranked in the top five stupid things that he had ever done. The way he saw it, Makoto was a person too. People needed other people -- and maybe this was just a way to fill his loneliness, but Haru saw no harm in this. Makoto seemed like a decent guy, obviously. He was so ashamed that he _hid in the bathroom_ , which Haru thought was more than a little cute. So, he tried again.

“It’s cold outside and you’ve worked hard. Stay for some tea.”

Haru backed up when he heard a belt buckle and just seconds after, Makoto opened the door slowly, his face still red. There was a kind of glint in his eyes that Haru, after so many years of passing by people without really looking at them, felt shy just looking at. He tried to offer some kind of comfort, nodding his head towards the dining room, and he saw a tiny embarrassed smile play at the corner of Makoto’s lips. Haru turned on the stove and placed a kettle on top, and reminded himself to be nicer than he usually was -- it was a really shocking incident for both of them, after all.

“Say, Makoto,” he said, with his back turned.

“Yes?”

“Who called you to come here?”

“A man named Matsuoka Rin. He said it was a special request, so I thought… maybe he was just a pervert.”

Haru felt his lips twitch at the comment. Rin, a pervert. Well, he wasn’t wrong. He grabbed a plate and filled it with a few of his homemade biscuits -- the sweet ones.

“I’m sorry, I’m rude. What’s your name?” Makoto asked.

Haru turned to glance at him, and saw that he appeared so much more mellow -- so much more down-to-earth, than when he originally entered the apartment. Haru grinned as he brought the plate over to Makoto, taking a seat next to him. He cleared his throat.

“Nanase Haruka.”

“Ah! You’re _that_ Nanase Haruka?”

“You’ve heard of me?”

“Of course! I used to swim too, in high school!”

Haru nodded and took a bite out of a biscuit, with Makoto following suit.

“I knew you looked familiar, but it didn’t click.”

“Even with the name Matsuoka Rin on the other line?”

Makoto paused, the biscuit halfway into his mouth. His eyes widened and he began to chuckle, obviously having not put the pieces together. Haru watched as the man chewed slowly, knowing that he was probably thinking this was a _very_ strange turn of events.

“I actually came to fill in for my friend. He couldn’t make it.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I’m new to the job, and he said this was a good opportunity since he happened to be busy.”

“Is that so.”

“Yep! He’s actually dating Matsuoka Rin, if I remember correctly.”

It was Haru’s turn to have his eyes widen. Of course, he knew that Rin was gay -- in fact, he thought it was a worldwide _fact_ that Olympic swimmer Matsuoka Rin was gay -- but he didn’t know that Rin would actually take the time to _date_ someone. He cleared his throat again.

“Who’s this person?”

“Ah, someone he knew from his childhood.”

Haru felt a strange sense of shock, thinking that it might actually be someone he _knew._

“Don’t tell me it’s a guy named Yamazaki Sousuke?”

“It is!”

Haru stared at Makoto, not sure what to make of this information. Haru wasn’t one to show much emotion, but in all honesty, he felt as though he could laugh openly from this piece of news. Of course, Haru had nothing against Sousuke -- they had a falling out at one point, but they patched it up after Rin had found out about it. But _who knew_ , of all people, Rin would end up with Sousuke? Haru had suspected it a few years ago, since Rin was such a romantic and Sousuke was really the only one who could calm Rin’s tides, but it was still a surprise.

Haru’s thoughts were halted when the kettle began whistling, and he rushed to pour tea for the both of them. He knew Makoto was watching him closely, and he thought that maybe it was just because he was thinking how he had been undressing in some guy’s apartment -- some guy he didn’t even _know_. Anyone else might think it would be trashy to invite a stripper to have some tea after they _almost_ got naked in the wrong client’s apartment.

But the truth was, Haru was lonely, and maybe having Makoto’s company would ease the emptiness.

“How come you don’t swim anymore?” Makoto asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I stopped loving it.”

“But you’re so great in the water.”

“So I’ve been told,” Haru shrugged.

They sipped their tea in silence, and when this would have felt awkward with anyone else in the past, Makoto seemed perfectly attuned to Haru’s lack of talking. It was comfortable, and Makoto played with the rim of his mug, his expression thoughtful. Even though they were the same age, Haru felt a more adult vibe from him, and it made him feel that Makoto actually had more control over his life. Haru sighed, drinking his tea slowly as he mulled over the thought of Makoto swimming -- what stroke did he swim? What did he feel when he swam? Did he love it?

“Do you have any hobbies, apart from swimming?” Makoto asked.

“Drawing. Cooking.”

Makoto smiled, going on to say that Haru seemed like the artistic type, the creative type. The one people turned to when they needed some form of guidance in their lives -- and it was ironic, because Haru had none in his. He listened attentively when Makoto spoke, telling him about his own hobbies and his hopes and dreams. He was only a few months younger than Haru, but the light in his eyes made Haru’s heart stir. Who, in this day and age, could be this old and still have so much hope for the future? He admired it, in all honesty.

Laughter spilled out of Makoto’s mouth when Haru told him of stories involving alcohol and intoxication, nights that seemed to stretch on forever under the stars. Makoto’s eyes lit up with a fire that Haru had never seen before -- it was softer, kinder -- but shone brightly anyway. Haru learned that Makoto was also openly gay, and had dated a few men. He had never been in love though, and at this knowledge, Haru felt his heart settle into his chest. Someone that resembled the warmth from the sun hadn’t fallen in love before, and he found it hard to believe. Especially someone as attractive as Makoto, too.

“So,” Haru whispered after a while, “what made you become a stripper?”

Makoto shifted in his seat, his bright eyes now filled with something that resembled a horrid realization -- and Haru recognized this because he remembered the first time he felt this way. As though there was no hope, no reason, absolutely _no way_ that any dreams or hopes he had could possibly come true.

“I gave up who I really was.”

“Why?”

Makoto looked at Haru, and for the first time in a while, Haru understood what empathy felt like.

“I lost my family.”

Haru’s eyes widened a fraction of an inch, but when Makoto began speaking of his parents, of his siblings, of the day that he felt as though his heart was torn out of his chest, Haru could genuinely say that he understood completely. Makoto’s eyes were grave as he talked about the one day he failed to get on the train in time. It was a mere few minutes, but that time was all it took for Makoto to lose _everything._

Throughout the whole night, as Makoto spoke of dreams and hopes and giving up something you _loved_ because you couldn’t afford to keep it in your life -- Haru realized something:

Makoto was lonely, too.

**Author's Note:**

> Please do give me your opinions!


End file.
